


A Portrait of Young Intimacy

by sartorialwonder



Category: Riverdale (TV 2017)
Genre: Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, post 1X12
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-14
Updated: 2017-05-14
Packaged: 2018-10-31 15:56:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,226
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10902627
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sartorialwonder/pseuds/sartorialwonder
Summary: A moment of intimacy in FP's trailer before the storm.





	A Portrait of Young Intimacy

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this before 1x13 and never posted it because (a) I hadn't joined yet and didn't want the first fic I ever posted to be smut (b) thought it might be a little out of character. Jokes on me and everyone else who thought our darling Jughead and Betty wouldn't be sexing it so soon.

For the first time in a long time, Jughead feels light on his feet. The sheer relief at finding out his father confessed to a murder he didn’t commit to protect him, making his head light and heart pound. He doesn’t know if wants to collapse onto the grimy floor of this trailer or go out and run himself into the ground when the adrenaline of his shouting match with Sheriff Keller earlier subsides. He settles for sinking slowly to the floor next the upturned table, legs folding under him. He was never one for physical exercise anyway. 

A spider crawls up one of the legs of the table, catching his eye. Idly, he thinks he really should start straightening the place out. Someone knocks at the door and he knows even before he has opened it that it really could only be one person. Betty. Tired blue eyes peer up at him and she thrusts a Tupperware container full at cookies into his hands. A peace offering from her even though he knows he’s the one who has been harsh on her and should be getting down on his knees and thanking her for not giving up on his dad (and him). 

“Hey, I thought I’d come by and help you tidy up” she says quietly. Instead of the usual high ponytail, her hair is slung into a loose bun. He hugs her and the remaining tension in his body dissolves. Suddenly he is bone-wearily, the adrenaline sapping out of him. She sighs in relief as her arms come up to support him. They start straightening the small trailer up together, mostly in silence, too tired to talk and not ready for tough conversations. He doesn’t quite know where they stand, where they go from here. He’s been shitty and unfair to her and she’s taken it with grace. Apologies hang on the tip of his tongue, ready to spilled out.The sky darkens and twilight sets in, casting deep shadows in the trailer. 

Jughead collapses unto the couch and watches as Betty sweeps some shattered glass away, carefully and methodically. “Come ‘ere” he says, breaking the silence, fondness in his voice and a grin creeping onto his face. He reaches over and wraps a hand around her knee, tugging her towards him. She falls half onto him hard, laughing and momentarily knocking the breath out of him. She twists in his lap to face him, one leg coming up to awkwardly straddle his. 

“Juggy” she starts but then her voice trails off. The setting darkness makes it hard to make out her expression. He brings his hand up to her face in an echo of their first kiss and traces a thumb across her cheek. 

“Yeah, Betty?” he said, a trace of amusement on his lips. She brings up her hands to cup his face to mirror him, eyes dropping to the curve of his lower lip before leaning in to kiss him. Like all their kisses before it starts off slow, sweet and a little hesitant. Betty expects Jughead to break the kiss first with some quippy remark, lighthearted and absent of the usual sarcasm he deploys with everyone else. Maybe that’s why she kisses him harder, leaning in, weaving her fingers through the hair at the back of his neck, pulling slightly. He groans at the feeling, tilting his head up and deepening the kiss. They both feel it, the spark igniting in their lower belly, Betty shifting even closer on his lap, looking for some friction. She sucks on his lower lip and bites down gently, but hard enough to draw a little blood, the metallic taste flooding her senses. Even she’s a little shocked by her own impatience. 

Maybe this isn’t the right time. In her dreams, it was always Archie in her pastel covered bedroom, with dim lights thrown by flickering candles, and soft music playing the background (something sweet but classical) and mountains of pillows. It would be the beginning of the rest of her life. A clichéd fantasy to be sure, but it’s what she always thought she wanted. Instead, she was on the lap of her other childhood best friend in a torn-up trailer (with a father in jail for confessing to a murder he didn’t commit) and a broken spring of the lumpy couch digging into the knee that was resting beside his thigh kind of painfully. Instead of looking up at red haired boy above her, his hair catching the candle light, she saw only dark locks blending into the drab background and the darkness sweeping in the window behind him. But she knows she wouldn’t trade this for the world and God, with everything that’s happened, they deserve to get a little lost in each other tonight. She knows she loves Jughead, he is her family and she would do anything to show him how committed she is to him. 

It’s a more aggressive Jughead that is before her tonight, meeting her kisses with a passion and overt desire that been missing before. He kisses down her neck and back up before nipping at her ear. He moves his hand across her hip, slips it under her sweater and traces up the curve of her spine. His hands feel so big on her and she shivers slightly, feeling small but safe. His hand comes up to cup the curve of a breast, fingers skimming lightly over the top. She inhales sharply. 

“Can I take this off?” he murmurs into her mouth. She nods her assent, lifting her arms as he tugs it up. Her baby blue sweater snags on her necklace with the little key though, and she’s stuck with half a sweater over her head until he frees the key. He laughs, before his eyes drift down her body, her bra lacy and pink. Of course, he thinks. Betty feels itchy in her own skin and suddenly can’t bear to be clothed. Impatiently, she unhooks her bra and lets it fall. He can just make out the rising blush on her cheeks, but he is frozen for a moment. This is uncharted territory for them and suddenly he is very aware of his heart pounding in his ears and the pressure in his jeans. 

“Do something, please” she breathes, and he snaps into action, hand coming back up to touch her experimentally, watching her reaction as he brushes a thumb over a nipple. She inhales sharply, hips and body rising automatically. He kisses down her collarbone and over her breast. When he closes over a nipple and his teeth lightly scrape over it, Betty moans. He vows right then and there to imprint that sound in his brain and wants desperately to make her do it again. 

“You’re wearing to many clothes” she whispers. 

“It’s an injustice”. He laughs again and it feels good. It is unfair, he won’t hold out on her. He knows Betty wouldn’t stand for any inequality big or small. He’s nervous though, taking his shirt off makes him feel vulnerable, so used to wearing at least three protective layers as a shield against the outside world. But her hands caress over his body short circuiting his brain and he soon all he can think about is the trail of fire her hands leave in their wake. He feels like he is burning up but no fever dream could ever top this. 

Her name rolls off his tongue and Betty can feel herself getting wetter by the moment. His fingers curl around the waistband of her jeans before he hesitates, a knot of anxiety in his abdomen warring with his raging hard on. 

“Are you sure?” he asks her, not knowing which answer he wants in this moment. She responds by stepping back from him, off the couch and he watches as she undoes the button on her jeans and peels them off her legs. She stands before him, shivering slightly, the cold air hitting her bare body, conscious of how wet her pink panties are, how she’s practically dripping down her thighs. But she waits for him to make the next move, gives him a chance to back out if he wants to. 

Jughead stands and takes his jeans off too with trembling fingers. He tugs her back in for a kiss and then fall onto the couch, her legs coming open to naturally fall to the side of his thighs. 

“You’re my dream girl, you know?” he says almost conversationally. “My queen of love and beauty, my Persephone, my Juliet” pressing his forehead to hers. Trust him to make literary reference in this moment where she feels like she wouldn’t be able to string two sentences together if her entire high school career and prospective collage one depended upon it. Hell, she’s not sure she even knows her name at this stage. They breathe in and breath out together in sync for a minute before the growing need takes over. He can feel how wet she is against his thigh and he runs a hand down her body to where she wants him most. 

She gasps as he touches her there for the first time, running a finger up her slit, feeling how wet and warm she is for him. He stops suddenly, “shit, listen Betts, I don’t know what the fuck I’m doing, and I don’t want to hurt you so you might have to tell me what to do”. She wants to scream in frustration, but what comes out is a soft “no one ever knows what they are doing and all I know is that I’ll spontaneously combust if you don’t start touching me again.” Message received and he runs his finger through her again, before circling around her clit. At that, her hips jolt and she cries out with the pleasure of it. Pleased, he continues and she throws her head back moaning, eyes closed. 

“Wait. Stop”. He jerks his hand back at her words, panicked. 

“What’s wrong?” Betty opens her eyes slowly and smiles at him. 

“I want to tell you something, before we you know, go any further” she gestures between them slightly awkwardly. A pause. 

Inhale. “You’re killing me, Betts. If you want to -”

“I love you.” 

Jughead lets out a breath he didn’t know he was holding. Exhale. He peers at her searchingly, looking for any sign of falsehood or deception. A lifetime of disappointment from the people who are supposed to love you the most unconditionally, forever and ever and taught him how to keep his guard up. 

But he knows it’s true. He can tell in the way her eyes luminous in the darkness don’t blink or shift from his. He can tell from the look shining in her eyes, open and honest. He can tell by how still the hand his hand that is resting on her ribcage just under her left breast is. Her heart was racing before and now it’s a steady and calm hum. He tells himself to let go. 

“I love you too.”

The words settle between them. He feels warm all over, inside out. Her smile is brilliant and a little tumultuous as she tries to hold back a few tears. She watches the emotions flicker across his face, so fast she can barely catch them. Relief, joy, a little pride and finally contentment. They kiss slowly to savour the moment, draw it out for as long as possible before their bodies remind them of the position they are in. 

They begin kissing with renewed urgency, suddenly hyperaware of how their bodies are touching, Jughead’s cock pressed against her thigh, his arm wrapped around her back, his thumb still dangerous close to her clit. He moves to touch her and Betty whines deep in her throat for him. 

The need to be joined together overtaking all nerves, Jughead lines himself up and pushes into her. She cries out and bites down on her lip hard. He stills below her and kisses her hurriedly. It’s agony and pleasure this feeling of being buried in her, knowing that there is no other way to be more closer and more vulnerable to another person than this right here. He never understood the obsession others (see Archie) had with sex and how stupid it made them but this, this intimacy he understands. He kisses the corner of her mouth, her cheek, an earlobe, her temple. 

Betty begins to move above him, his fingers digging into her hips for leverage. He lets her dictate the pace until he can’t bear it anymore, rising to meet her thrust for thrust. The little whimpers and moans Betty lets out, so tight and wet and hot around him is driving him out of his mind. Betty is feeling overwhelmed and out of control in the best way. 

“Oh fuck” he says, not the most eloquent thing he has ever said to be sure, but possibly the most fitting. Stomach clenching in time to her clenching around his cock. 

“I’m so close” she breathes. He snakes a hand down to where they are joined, rubbing her clit in small circles. 

“Let go, I’ve got you.” She lets herself fall off the cliff, calling his name. He sees stars behind his eyelids. 

It’s not what they imagined but it’s perfect.


End file.
